I shouldn’t write this review. I didn’t know it was going to happen. I didn’t plan on hitting two shows, I didn’t plan on writing about my night, and I didn’t even plan on getting drunk. And then I did all three.
I started my night running late. Grandma was upstairs and had just had a pacemaker put in so band practice had to wait. I didn’t want to miss Impeders of Progress, but all the same couldn’t let them impede the progress of my new band. They’d understand. After jamming my friends headed to the beer store and I to the bus. I assumed it would be a straight edge hardcore show at the APC center, so I opted out on the beer. The door girl took my cover charge between sips of beer and I cruised up the stairs. The first music that hit my ears sounded strangely familiar and sure enough Impeders of Progress were in full swing. As were the punks in the pit, they had already worked up a good sweat. I could smell it. Five songs later and impeders were done, but I was glad to at least catch some of the set. Those dudes rock hard.
Saying a few people were drinking is an understatement. My friend Morgan said he was off to buy a six-pack and my upper lip twitched as it heard those words. I could only hang out in an alley by some shit dumpsters for so long before I needed a cold one. So off we went. We saw a huge rat, crossed Hastings, passed a shit load of cops and hit the dive bar. After purchasing one six pack they wouldn’t let us leave the bar. Out front was now a crime scene, taped off and we were told to use the back exit. I told them I’d feel safer just cutting through the crime scene, but they weren’t having it. The back room of the bar ended up smelling worse than the alley. What must have once been a smoking room that smelt like shitty butts was now a non smoking room that smelled like shitty ass. Morgan told me that if he ever ended up 50 years old drinking in the back room of the Empress Hotel I could kick him in the nuts. I should write that down so I don’t forget. You never know when the chance to kick someone in the nuts is going to arise.
Back to the show and in to see In Bear Country. The room was packed and I couldn’t get very close to the stage/floor but it sounded great. This was a cool band with a pop punk sound, but good pop punk, not horrible whiny pop punk. After a song and a half it was over and I was bummed I spent their set on Hastings in shit bars and shit alleys, but at least I now had beer.
It was hot in the APC and breath catching was needed between bands for an older gent like myself. The one problem with this was that you couldn’t actually hear when the band was starting up and because I’m a big fan of Ruiner I didn’t want to get caught in the back like I was for the last band. I walked into the room and they started playing. It was great timing on my part, and a quick turn over on theirs. As I mentioned before I’m a big fan of Ruiner so it’s safe to say they kicked major ass. They played everything I wanted to hear, and then some. Close to the end I asked for a song that wasn’t on the set list and they played it. Got to love that.
Show’s over and low and behold I’m hanging out by shit dumpsters again. My friends are trying to decide if they can make the beer store in time or if we should just go to a bar. I mention that BA Johnston and Mr. Plow are playing at Pat’s Pub and before I know it we’re shilling out another eight bucks towards a good cause; live music. Well most of us did. It’s safe to say I had two stamps on my hand, but the girl in the group had none. I wanna be a girl, sometimes.
Here is another main reason I shouldn’t be writing this review. For the next two musical acts we sat at the only available table in the bar, at the back, and got right pissed. There might have been a break from getting pissed to smoke some weed, but what do you want from me? It was Saturday night. As always it was great toe tappin’ tunes from Mr. Plow, and Shotgun Jimmie was a cool alternative two-piece from the other side of the country.
I didn’t need another doobie, but smoked one anyway while BA Johnston played his weird brand of video game disco music. I felt like I hadn’t yet gotten my eight bucks worth (my own fault of course) and knew that this pudgy orange haired ghoul could give it to me. And how!
This guy was hilarious. He bounced from his acoustic guitar, to his casio video game music player (on these songs he’d press a button and venture off into the crowd) and back again to a larger keyboard. He treated a jug of beer awfully and ended up with most of it on himself in seconds flat. At the end of his set he called out that the encore was going to take place in the bathroom. I don’t hang out in men’s public bathrooms for any extended amounts of time unless my pants are around my ankles, so I didn’t venture in, but half the bar did. Funnily enough my friend Zach was mid piss when the crowd swarmed in. Poor guy couldn’t have left if he wanted to. He said madness ensued and people were climbing all over the urinals as BA Johnston sucked the shit air into his lungs to sing a sweet goodbye to the audience he dragged into the bathroom. My night didn’t end there, but this article did.
Posted: Oct 21, 2009